Lines written in meditation upon the recent moth plague

Moths! Moths! Moths!
In trouser-leg, singlet and shirt;
You may shake for an hour with science and power,
There’ll still be one left, for cert.

Moths! Moths! Moths!
In cupboards and curtains and books;
Move anything – millions and fluttering billions
Rush madly from crannies and nooks.

Moths! Moths! Moths!
Leave their cards when they’ve finished their lunch.
Make a step in the dark and a score perish – Hark
To that last poignant heart-rending crunch!

Moths! Moths! Moths!
Sing not of the curses of Nile;
Would Pharoah say, “No,” to stout Moses and Co.
With moths in his porridge? I smile.

Moths! Moths! Moths!
And I’ll wager (there isn’t a doubt of it)
That when Gabriel slips the Last Trump to his lips
A moth will come fluttering out of it.

School poems

Poems of Nature